Addicts
by Tearra
Summary: A short little Reno/Yuffie fic about their relationship. Let me know what you think. Rated Mature because I'm paranoid.


Don't break my fall, and don't catch me when I tumble, just fall with me. Just so that I can feel the wind on our faces and so that our hair tangles together with your hand in mine, and your body beside me. I don't want to be caught, I just want to keep falling, because this free-falling, this night sky dive is beautiful and exhilarating and I can't get enough of it.

I can't get enough of you. I can't get enough of you and the way you _tastesmellfeelsound_, the way that you get under my skin and irritate me and get to me until I break, and when I break I'm yours. Yours, always yours.

I'm always yours because I can't break away. You've got me tied up in knots, shackled, bound to you. It's always you. I tried to get away, Leviathan knows that I tried to run because I know what you are, I know what you did, what you've done and what you still do. You're a bad person, you're an evil person, emotionless, cold, reckless but when I ran, all I could think of was you. All I could think about was you, and your mako rimmed eyes, shining like the sea, shining with brilliance and dominance and greed. I didn't make it far before I cam running back to you; to you and your desperate painful kisses that leave me reeling and dizzy and wondering what the hell I'm doing. They told me that I had energy, but I've never seen someone with as much energy as you. I've never seen anyone with so must lust and power and so much greed. You take and take and take, and there's only so much that I can give.

But I keep coming back.

I come back, because I'm addicted to _you_ and the way that your eyes look hungrily over me, the way that you seem to need me. I don't think its really me that you need, but I'm here. I'm addicted to your eyes and you lips and the way that you crush my body under yours; your vibrance, your power, your hunger. I try to match your hunger, your ferocity, but there's no way that I could ever match you.

It's like you're running from something, and I'm the raft that will take you away from it all. I don't know why me, or what I'm taking you from, but we're a mutual addiction, you and I.

It's a dangerous game. It's Russian Roulette with every chamber filled.

We met in a bar and instead of making jokes about me being so fucking young, you bought me a drink and admired my legs. You always whisper in my ear about my legs, about how you can't even look at them without want to "rip those fucking shorts right off".

It's always been just sex. I never thought there would ever, or could ever be love between us. I don't think that I want to love you. And to be honest, I don't care what you do, where you go, what you drink, as long as when I want you, you're there. You're an addiction, and it's bad like cocaine, because every time I have a bit of you, I just want more. You're insatiable, and and I'm insatiable and I want, want, want you.

It's not love. I don't know what love is, but it can't be this. This is an addiction.

They all told me that you were bad for me. Fuck them. I'm grown up enough now to know that you're bad for me, that you're terrible for me, that you're probably the worst thing that could ever happen to me. You're worse than the cigarettes that you smoke to slowly kill yourself. You're worse than a night-stick to the knee caps or a gun to the head. But I don't care. Every girl needs some danger in her life and baby, you're a ten on the Richter scale.

Sometimes I want to get out of this addiction. You'll be the death of me, I know it, and somehow I don't care. I don't want to rule a country, that can be passed on, and I don't want to just live out some ordinary life. There are supposed to be no strings but I've watched you, followed you when you think I'm not there. You're edgy and nervous. You're a coke addict without his fix.

I'm your fix. You're my fix, and I just can't let it go.

Sometimes I crave you the way that you crave cigarettes and smoke and death. It drives me crazy but sometimes I can't sleep without your touch. I go kinda crazy without your kiss and I hate it.

When I tried to get away, you let me go. But when I came home, you pinned me against the bedroom wall.

"I tried to get away." My serious words became a half moan as you run your lips down my neck. Kissed my jugular and breathed me in.

"You can leave whenever you want," you say, but your lips are dancing a crazy pattern on my throat. Your getting your fix. "I don't care about you," you murmured as calmly as if you were discussing the price of chocobos. "I don't care about us. I'm not your knight in shining armor. I'm not your hero. If you want a hero, go hang around that spiky headed bastard and maybe this time he'll actually give you the time of-"

I hit you, hard. The sound of my hand against your skin rang through the small apartment and you just laughed and pushed me harder against the wall. Made me gasp.

"So, if you want something else, then get the hell out." Your voice is a confident whisper against my ear, and I can't help it, I can't help but inhale, because its all just so unfair. You're playing unfair, and you know I can't win.

Should have run. Should have detoxed, found another addiction. One not so poisonous and dangerous. Should have run back to the hero, even though he wouldn't have ever given me a second glance.

Instead I kissed you, hard and fast, and passionately, like a dying man swimming for a life boat.

I never could get away.

Sometimes I wonder. Sometimes you use me and throw me to the side. Sometimes you get like this and I don't think that you want_need_ me the way that I want_need _you.

Sometimes you grow distant and I think of those couples, those annoying couples in public, holding hands and mauling each other's faces and I want to be them, I want that to be you and me.

But our relationship is hardly functional, much less public. But that doesn't stop me from wanting you to be unable to keep your hands off of me. I want you to want me, so bad, the way that I want**need **you.

Theres no passion in you, just mechanical desire.

We're falling. I'm not sure where we're going, what we're falling to, whether its water or concrete, but we're falling. I don't want to stop because this free falling is amazing, I've never felt so alive. I'm high and falling, and you're right there next to me, falling just as fast, with that cynical little smirk spread across your goddamn beautiful face.

I should have run when I had the chance.

Instead, we're just two people, free-falling.

Who knows where we'll land.


End file.
